


Breathe: A Compilation

by SoftLullaby



Series: Rise from the Ashes [1]
Category: Jessica Jones (TV), World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Child Murder, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mind Control, Multi, Murder-Suicide, Original Character(s), Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Hatred, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 20:38:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12465500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftLullaby/pseuds/SoftLullaby
Summary: Annwyl Llewellyn, a compassionate and kind mage, a paragon healer. The sort of girl who wants to help any and everyone around her, only to be betrayed by that very nature. Enter Devlin Alistair, a man capable of getting anything he wants from everyone around him. With the power to make his desires reality, how can Annwyl hope to emerge unscathed?





	Breathe: A Compilation

> __ Look into this mirror tell me   
>  What do you see?   
>  Beautiful can't begin to describe you   
>  Or what you mean to me   
>  Come a little closer to me   
>  Let me see you spin   
>  Want to get inside of your mind   
>  I'll make you let me in   
>    
>  Open up your eyes   
>  To the possibilities   
>  Take it there love the fear   
>  You'd be surprised   
>  How good it feels   
>  To just let go   
>    
>  And breathe, breathe with me   
>  Breathe, breathe with me…

 

His control was gone.

She could feel it, as though the crushing vice grip in her head had gone away. She could breathe again, and there was a relieving sense of giddiness spreading through her limbs. Part of her wanted to laugh but she feared the moment she did so, he would hear. And he would wonder why. It terrified her to draw his attention to her; the moment was far too exhilarating for her to simply let it go now.

Standing upon a rooftop, her pale pink skirt tugging across her calves in the wind, she simply took a moment to stare. She had seen this view many times, but never through eyes that  _ she  _ owned. Skyscrapers rose upward toward a painted sky, the city that never slept.  _ I hate the city. The constant noise deafens me to the world. _

She longed for nothing more than the feel of dirt and grass between her bare toes, to run free, to feel the absolute vibrance that life had to offer. She longed for the natural world again, the heartbeat of life thrumming in every wind rustling past the treetop spires. The pulsebeat of the world was a beautiful, magical thing, and she longed to hear it. The steel had no character, no life, no love. She could not feel its spirit, and the life which hummed just beneath the surface was drowned in a macabre cacophony of dissonance and death.

But with the control broken, she found herself finally and truly free.

It was only then that she stumbled upon the realization that in order to escape… she would have to walk right past him. That sudden, sharp realization chilled her to the bone, fueling a new frenzy of hopelessness. If he saw her attempting to escape, it would be over. That hopelessness pressed in upon her so acutely that tears sprang into her eyes, the lump in her throat causing her breath to freeze in her lungs.

Everything seemed suddenly more hopeless than it had when he owned her mind, but that was only because of the choice which lay before her. On one hand, she could wait for him to return and draw her back into the tangled web of wrongness. And when he did, she would be turned into a killing machine, all over again. But her other option… the only real way out… was to fall.

She stepped toward the edge of the rooftop, her feet shakily carrying her the short distance. She could fall to her death, and she would be free. He would no longer be able to use her as a weapon against his enemies.

Closing her eyes, she relived those moments. The moment when he told her to kill. It was a single word, a command that sparked so much wrongness. Magic was not meant to be used as she had. It was not meant to warp and transform her body into that of a ferocious beast. She was not meant to have claws or fangs, and yet his command always incited the most overt display of magic. She hated that the most, the perversion of the arcana she had once employed to heal. It was unnatural, the way he forced her to manipulate it, and she could not scrub the taint of it from her skin.

It was then that she realized the horrible, deafening truth - she would rather die than let him use her like this. She had been made a monster, and it was slowly killing her on the inside. As her hands reached out to lift her up onto the overhang, she felt peace wash over her. This was it. This was the right path. She had to fling herself into oblivion. It would save not only the countless scores he meant to use her to kill, but herself as well.

"Annie!"

His voice permeated her mind and she froze, feeling the tendrils of his control creeping up on her again. She balked at it, fighting it as hard as she could. "Annie, get down from there! Get down from there  _ this instant _ !"

Although she tried to fight his command, she felt herself stepping down, turning to face him once more, safe with no threat of falling. She felt her heart sink as he crossed the remaining distance to her, lifting a hand to hit her hard across the face. "You ungrateful bitch!" he snarled at her. "I gave you the world, freed that pesky inner demon of yours, and this is the thanks I get?! You try to off yourself at the first chance you get?"

A moment later, his gaze softened as he reached out to stroke the side of her face. "Don't do that to me, ever again. You scared me shitless, Annie." Somewhere in the back of her mind, where it still belonged to her, she felt revulsion at his use of her pet name. She wanted to scream at him that he simply had not earned the right to use it. "Why did you do that? Why did you try to kill yourself?"

Since he had not commanded her to answer, she still had the wherewithal to refuse a response. So she stood there, silently, praying he would not demand the truth. But she knew he would. He always did.

"Tell me," he said softly, commanding her at last. "Tell me this instant."

"I wanted to be free of you." The words tumbled out quickly, without her consent. But that was the way it always was. At the forefront of her mind was that desire to do anything, just to make him happy. It made the other parts of her brain, the ones that wanted for her to do the same for herself, so much more fuzzy. It no longer mattered. All that mattered was Devlin Alistair, the man she would do anything for, no matter how much that tiny part of her despised it. "I don't want to kill anymore. I thought dying would be better for everyone."

Her words brought a sudden flash of anger into his eyes, and he stepped back. Without even thinking about it, he withdrew the small knife from his boot and tossed it on the cement between them. "Pick it up," he demanded softly. Quiet though his tone might have been, there was no gentleness.

She found herself compelled to pick it up, even as a voice within her railed against it.  _ Annwyl, no! Don't listen to him!  _ And yet she did. She curled her fingers around the hilt and stood, her eyes on him, waiting with baited breath to see what he would demand of her now. Eager to do as he pleased.

"Slice your arm. Deeply."

The part of her mind that was lucid suddenly drove her to weep, and yet the tears that fell down her face seemed alien, not matching her expression in the slightest. Without hesitation, she lifted the knife and pressed it to the vulnerable part of her wrist, making a swift, deep strike against the flesh. The sting of pain elicited a soft cry from her, yet she swiped again and again, feeling the warm rush of blood upon her skin and hand. Soon, it stained the pale pink of her dress.

The cuts were deep furrows by the time he finally stepped toward her, placing a hand over hers and whispering, "Stop…" She did not move her hand away, it merely froze in place to accommodate his command. His fingers curled around hers. "I'm sorry to cause you pain. I just… I don't want to lose you, Annie. Please don't ever hurt me like that again…"

He drew the knife from her hands before pulling her in close. She wept silently, with only the small portion of her brain capable of understanding why the tears fell.

 

> __ Shadows fall onto our bodies   
>  From a winter sun   
>  Lace on lace in strawberry shades   
>  As we both come undone   
>    
>  Open up your world   
>  Show me the deepest secrets   
>  I would I'd understand   
>  Watching us burn   
>  Into a million pieces   
>  One touch of your hand   
>    
>  Breathe, breathe with me   
>  Breathe, breathe with me

 

Annwyl had defied him. She had defied Devlin Alistair, and all because there was still a small part of her that did not want to do his bidding. And so when he had commanded her to lie down, naked, and embrace him lovingly, she had been unable to do so. That part of her mind did not love him, and so when she had embraced him, the love had been flat, hollow. 

He had used her body, but it had been a moment devoid of response. She was capable of passion, but not for Devlin. The lucid part of her brain would deny him, knowing that there was still a man out there who would not use supernatural abilities to get what he wanted from her.

No, that man would coax her, and he would recognize that although her body responded to Devlin's, this was still rape. This was still against her will. This was not her consenting, and there would be a man who would recognize that.

She felt Devlin stiffen and suddenly he withdrew from her, rising to his feet. She did not move, although she turned her head to watch him, knowing her gaze would be hollow and empty. The part of her that he commanded no longer felt anything, and it was mirrored in her gaze.

"Is there truly no love for me, Annie, dearest?" he murmured as he stared down at her, his gaze hard and cruel. "Cannot muster that feeling? Well… Perhaps you can be persuaded."

He went to the door and wrenched it open. "Cale!" he barked to the boy sitting outside. "Bring me two of my girls. I do not care which ones. Just bring them to me, now." Though she did not see it, Annwyl knew that Cale had sprung to his feet, eager to do his master's bidding. That was the poison in Devlin Alistair. The poison which flooded others and turned them into mindless zombies, eager for his approval. Perhaps not even that. Perhaps they were eager for his happiness. It was the single most important thing to them once he sank his claws in.

And yet… Annwyl was devoid of that desire now.

Two young girls, no older than sixteen, slipped into the room. They appeared fresh faced, calm, and certainly not afraid. Both peered up at Devlin with absolute trust and devotion. He reached out, one hand on each girl's cheek. "Get up, Annie."

His command lanced through her and she did as he bade, slipping from the bed merely to stand beside it. She looked across at him and the girls, knowing her face was a dispassionate display of nothingness.

He spoke softly to the girls, and they began to disrobe before they moved to the bed themselves, laying their naked bodies on it. "Watch them, Annie. Do not take your eyes from them, no matter what. And do not touch them." There was something in his words that chilled that small part of her, a knowledge that this was going to go poorly. And as her eyes fell upon the young girls, she understood that the worst would not be for her - it would be for them. He was going to do something, rip something, from these poor girls.

And she was helpless to do anything.

She could never have imagined the nightmare which ensued. It began innocently enough, with Devlin instructing the girls to start touching one another, exploring their bodies sexually. It was a tender thing; even if it was still perverse and wrong, at least there was no pain. But each instruction from Devlin drove the girls deeper into the well of debauchery. Annwyl felt tears forming in her eyes as she watched, listening to the cries of pleasure the girls inspired in one another. At least he had not compelled them to please him. At least the girls would not be forever scarred by his cruelty.

With a smile, Devlin looked across at her, bidding her meet his gaze. She did so, and his smile soon faded. "So incapable of a loving expression?" he said, his tone hardening. "I suppose this seems innocent enough, doesn't it? As if there is nothing I can do to make this worse. But you shall see just how wrong you are… Watch them again, Annie, dearest. Watch them, and hear their screams."

The nightmare manifested, breaking through the fog. He commanded the girls to kill one another, but not in so few words. Instead, he instructed them to tear each other apart. Ripping the skin from the other's body, reaching in and tearing at muscle and sinew. Neither of them cried, because this was beautiful for them. They gazed at each other lovingly, even as they died in that bed. Even as their little fingers did such terrible, awful things, deconstructing each other's bodies.

Devlin did not allow them to stop, not once. He let them kill one another, although in the end, his words were for Annwyl. "Pretend you love me," he said softly. "Gaze upon me with it. Let your body writhe beneath mine with it. If you fail again, I will do this. Over and over again. And next time, I will use toddlers."

He turned and left Annwyl beside the bed, then, and part of her brain wept. Part of her brain wished he would have bid her step away, or at least look away.

Instead, she watched. Watched the two bodies laying there on a blood-soaked mattress, still in death, their faces painted with utter devotion.

In that moment, she hated him.

 

> __ You can have me   
>  Touch me slowly   
>  Kiss me softly   
>  Take me under   
>  Whisper loudly   
>  Push into me   
>  Mark my body   
>  Lose control now   
>  Take me over   
>    
>  Breathe   
>  Take me over   
>  Breathe with me   
>  Take me over   
>  Breathe   
>  Take me over   
>  Breathe with me

 

"Kill him, Annie."

Part of her mind railed against it.  _ No _ , she screamed inwardly.  _ I can't kill him. Anyone but him. Don't make me kill my little brother…  _ Tears spilled down her face, and for the first time, she truly hesitated. Devlin inspired complete devotion, but Annwyl loved her brother. Cadoc was her flesh and blood, and the thought of killing him destroyed part of her inside.

"Don't make me do this," she finally whispered, finding the will to say aloud what her heart had been screaming. "I'll kill anyone else for you, whenever, and I'll even make love to you, for the rest of our lives. Just… don't make me kill my brother. Please…"

Anger danced along every line and contour of Devlin's face. She had defied him, spoken out against him, and yet he could see the will was costing her. Beads of sweat lined her brow, and she fought against his compulsion. He smiled dangerously at her as he stepped forward, leaning in until his lips nearly brushed her earlobe.

"Kill him, Annie. Because if you don't… I will… and I'll make him suffer."

Left with no other choice, Annwyl did as he said. In a single, swift motion, she fueled her life magic in order to kill Cadoc. The boy instantly fell to the ground, not having felt any pain as her magic had channeled his life force out of his body. She wept inwardly as she slowly lowered her hand to her side.

_ I'm sorry, Cadoc… _

It was then that she recognized true hopelessness.

**Author's Note:**

> Although not technically set in the same universe as Marvel's Jessica Jones, elements of her story have given rise to my own tale. Devlin Alistair is not Kilgrave; he is a vampire who's abilities have surpassed those of most. His commands can be as simple or as complex as he desires them to be. And Annwyl Llewellyn is not Jessica Jones. True, she shares the same idealism and desire to help people, but her personality is a gentler, less abrasive one. I hope you enjoy the tale as it spirals out of control.


End file.
